Crimes of the Heart
by mandd
Summary: Red told Healy that their ships "passed too late in the night for one of them to change course." But will she change her mind when Healy has a heart attack and she is confronted with the possibility of life without him?
1. Chapter 1

Red stomped past the "No criminals beyond this point" sign and stormed into Caputo's office. He glanced up at her over his glasses.

"Where's Healy?" She growled.

"Wow, grapevine must be slow today." Caputo squinted at her for a moment, then took the glasses off and gestured to the chair in front of him. "Have a seat."

She narrowed her eyes and thrust out her chin. "Why?"

He paused, then sighed and tossed the spectacles down on the desk. "Fine." He shrugged. "Heart attack. Healy had a heart attack last night, so whatever it is you're hoping to wheedle out of him you're going to have to run it by me instead. Good luck with that by the way. I don't know what you have over the poor guy but…Red?"

Red's knees gave out and she sank into the chair. "Heart…" her voice came out fractured and she swallowed around the knot in her throat and tried again, managing a hoarse whisper. "Heart attack?"

"Yeah," Caputo's face softened. "I mean, yeah, but it didn't sound like it was too bad, I don't think. I mean he's not doing great, obviously, but it didn't sound like he was, ya know, going to, kick the bucket or anything. He's going into surgery tonight."

"Tonight," she repeated. There was a strange whooshing sound in her ears.

"Yeah. I don't know much more than that. His wife called but her accent's even thicker than yours, so I didn't really catch everything."

"His...wife."

"Hey you okay? Your face is the color of your shirt—you're not gonna pass out on me or anything are you?"

"I'm fine." she mumbled because it seemed like that was what she was expected to say. She felt scrambled, confused- suddenly overwhelmed with the memory of the gut-punched look in Healy's eyes just days before when she had told him it was too late for them to be together.

Caputo rubbed his hands over his face and sighed. "Look, I'm sorry, I'm having a shit day, and the truth is I'm sorta worried about the guy. But I guess I should have broken the news a little gentler. I mean, I know you and Healy have known each other a long time and you two have got that weird…I don't know. Whatever that thing is you got."

Red's head snapped up and she felt her face flood with color. She straightened her spine and slid her mask into place, covering the panic that had started clawing at her as soon as she'd heard the words, "heart attack".

"No, I'm fine. It's just that…my father dropped dead from a bad heart and for some reason, the way you said it or something, it just...took me back. The mind is strange like that—the way it slips back to an old groove without warning." She took a deep breath and set her jaw in a way she knew made her look as hard and cold and immoveable as an iceberg. She could feel the sting behind her eyelids so she stood and rolled up her sleeves, avoiding eye contact. "I mean, I'm sorry about Healy of course, but you know. These things happen. He's always eaten too many eggs." She pursed her lips and shook her head in a show of disapproval. "Cholesterol must be through the roof."

She had to look him in the eye before she left, just to ensure that she'd covered her tracks. She crossed her arms and squinted at him. "Well. Keep me posted on how he's doing. I mean, the man is a piece of work, but you're right. We have known each other a long time." She raised her hand in a crisp wave and turned to leave as Caputo called after her.

"I'll let you know when I hear something."

"Thanks Caputo," she tossed over her shoulder.

As she made her way down the hall she took deep, heaving breaths. She wouldn't be able to hold back the tears much longer. She needed a cover, so she bent over and put her hand to her back and winced. Hopefully if anyone noticed the state she was in they would blame it on her notoriously bad back.

By the time she shut the bathroom door the tears were streaming down her face.


	2. Chapter 2

"Chang."

Chang looked up from her game of solitaire, squinting up at Red in the glare of the sun. Red had composed herself in the bathroom and raced back to her bunk to redraw her eyeliner and fix her lipstick. She'd been fairly confident that the turmoil she was feeling was undetectable from the outside, but as the inscrutable Chinese woman slowly looked her up and down, she felt somehow exposed.

She cleared her throat. "I need to call in that favor."

Chang's mouth turned down at the corners and she nodded slowly. "Ok."

"I need to use your cell phone." Red lifted her chin in a take-no-shit stance. A solid half hour of brainstorming had led her to this as the only course of action. It had to work.

Chang cocked her head and looked straight into Red's eyes for a long, long moment. When she could stand it no more, Red huffed a laugh and looked away. "So?" she said, lifting her hands. "Is that a yes?"

Chang nodded slowly. "Meet me in the greenhouse in ten minutes."

"Five," Red snapped and flexed her fingers to reign in her impatience.

Chang gave her another appraising look. "Fine. Five."

* * *

Red bit her lip and stared at the phone. She set it on the table and started pacing, running her hands through her hair. What was she doing? What did she think she was going to say? This was madness. She'd meant it when she told Healy that it was too late for them. Healy would always believe in the system and she would always try to beat it. It was an irreconcilable difference that would forever put them on opposite sides with or without bars.

And really…what did he think? That they could wait for her to get out of prison and then, what? Make a go of it? At their ages and with their history? It was insanity. And he was still married, for gods sake! It was impractical and foolish and so what if there were _feelings_ between them? _Feelings_ had never gotten her anywhere she wanted to be.

And yet.

There was an insistent pull that would not go away. Maybe it was new, maybe it had been there all along. She hadn't been aware of it when she had started playing him. Had she? But when she realized that she had hurt him—"human to human", as it were, something had changed.

She hated the pain in his eyes and knowing that she had put it there. And then, bizarrely and unexpectedly, she realized she actually wanted to make him smile.

And then he had sent her the corn. And she had never in her life felt so powerfully seen and understood. This feeling was cemented as fact when they gazed at one another at Morello's wedding. It was shocking and powerful and raw and eviscerating, but in that small, pure moment, and for the first time in her life, Red believed she had a soul mate.

She picked up the phone and her hand was shaking. She opened her other fist and dialed the number written on her palm. The phone rang three times, four, five, if it got to six she was going to hang up. On the eighth ring a female voice answered, "Litchfield Lutheran."

Red cleared her throat and said "Hi. Can you please transfer me to Sam Healy's room?"


	3. Chapter 3

Sam listened to the beeping of his heart monitor. The rhythm was regular and steady—that seemed like a good thing. He started tapping his foot in time to the beeping and the beat somehow brought the lyrics of Elvis' "Are You Lonesome Tonight?" to his mind so clearly that he could practically hear the sad refrain.

 _Is your heart filled with pain?_

 _Shall I come back again?_

 _Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?_

He chuckled softly and rolled his eyes. He was losing it. All things, apparently—even the beeping of his heart monitor—led to thoughts of Red. Pathetic.

It felt to him as though he had literally succumbed to a broken heart, although the doctors were putting it down to a sedentary lifestyle and too much saturated fat. True enough, but the coincidence could still not be denied.

He had been eating his Stouffer's potpie the night before when it happened. Katya and her mother were out apartment shopping so he had been alone in his very quiet, very empty house. First he was just a little short of breath, then, he felt the pain travel up his arm and knew with a foreboding sense of certainty that he had to call 911.

He glanced at the clock. Three more hours until his procedure and the only voice he wanted to hear was the only voice he couldn't reach. He sighed and watched as the blue "Get Well Soon!" balloon bobbed against the ceiling. He had been shocked when Katya had walked in with it, a look of something close to compassion on her face. No wonder all of his efforts had fallen flat with her. The only thing she really wanted from him was help to get away. He had tried so hard to make her happy and he finally had…by releasing her. Once again he recited his mantra to himself: "He's good, he's handsome, he's trying…"

He shook his head trying to push the thought of the fiery redhead out of his mind. Impossible task.

The phone rang on the nightstand, jerking him out of his reverie. He attempted to sit up, but he couldn't reach the phone, tethered to the wires and IV lines. It occurred to him that he had no idea who would be calling him in the hospital—there was no one in his life who he could think of that would bother to track him down and call him here. Sure, he had acquaintances, coworkers who would probably feel some kind of limited concern. But no one who would reach out. Caputo maybe? It was possible, but unlikely. And anyway, if Caputo wanted to talk to him, he had his cell number. He tried not to dwell on the fact that short of a few quick phone calls from Katya, his cell phone had remained silent as well.

He sank back down against his pillow. This was not something he wanted to think about right now. Now was not the time to wallow in the fact that he was sixty years old and lying in a hospital bed alone, waiting for a procedure with no one to sit in the waiting room worrying about the outcome. The phone stopped ringing. Just as well. It was probably an insurance call anyway. It could wait.

He was staring at the ceiling, fighting with everything he had not to throw himself the world's loneliest pity party when the phone rang again and he jumped. A young nurse bustled in and rushed to the nightstand. "Sorry Mr. Healy, let me get that for you." She picked up the phone. "Room 248…" He watched her listening and was suddenly filled with optimistic curiosity about who could be on the other line. What if it wasn't an insurance call? Maybe it was Caputo after all…

"Can I please ask who's calling?" The nurse lowered the phone to her hip and said softly, "It's Galina, from your work."

Sam didn't need to hear the accelerated beeping of the heart monitor to know that his heart was suddenly racing.


	4. Chapter 4

The nurse handed him the phone, then immediately went over to his heart monitor.

"Hello?" he said, trance-like into the receiver.

"Healy?" Oh god, it really was her...

"Mr. Healy, I'm going to get you another nitroglycerin patch," the nurse said.

"Uh…Hang on," he said not sure if he was speaking to Red or the nurse.

"Your pulse is increased and we just want to reduce the workload on the heart," the nurse informed him as she peeled back the shoulder of his hospital gown.

"Healy, what's going on? Are you okay?" Red was growling into his ear and he felt completely untethered. It was so bizarre to be talking on the phone to Red at all, and in this circumstance…

"Where are you calling from?" He asked as the strangeness of this slid into place. There would be absolutely no valid excuse for a prisoner to make a call to a counselor. If they were caught…

"Don't worry, I'm not using the pay phone. This is a private line. Don't have a coronary or anything. Ha ha."

"Yeah, well, little too late for that, I guess," he answered weakly.

"Sorry, that was a dumb joke," she said, and her voice was thick and strained.

"No, it's fine, I'm…"

The nurse retied his gown and said, "Okay, I think that's better Mr. Healy. Just try to keep yourself calm."

He waved his thanks then scrambled with the phone, panicked. How long would she have to talk on this "private line"? And what if she got caught using a cell phone? There would be nothing he could do from the hospital to protect her.

"I shouldn't have called. I should let you go. I'm sorry…"

"Red," he barked, then lowered his voice. "Don't you dare hang up that phone unless you have to. Are you in a safe place? I don't want you to risk getting caught."

"I won't get caught." She answered. "But I don't have a lot of time. Look, all I heard from Caputo was that you were having heart surgery, tonight. I don't know anything, I can't ask any questions and I was…" her voice broke and he felt a pang in his chest that had nothing to do with blocked arteries. "I was worried about you," she whispered, all the hard edges of her normal speech suddenly melting into a soft purr.

Red was worried about him. The warmth of this spread through him and suddenly his cold hospital room was transformed into a place of light and beauty. And hope.

"Don't worry about me. I'm fine," he said, gently. "It's not really surgery, just your run-of-the-mill angioplasty. They just need to clean out some clogged pipes. I'll be good as new in a few days."

There was a long pause on the other line and then a rush of breath. "Oh my god, I thought you were going to have your chest cracked open." He could hear relief and tears in her voice.

How was it possible that she thought they had missed their chance?

He chuckled softly. "Sorry. It's not quite that dramatic."

She sniffled. "Caputo said that Katya told him you had to have surgery."

"Yeah, well, it's more like a procedure, I guess. But you know Katya. Her English is not that great."

"Her English is deplorable. Along with her judgment, her sense of humor and her personality."

"Woah," he said startled.

"Sorry," she answered. "I know she is your wife. But…let's just say I'm not her biggest fan."

"Yeah, well, she's not going to be my wife much longer. I think she found an apartment she likes so…"

"So good riddance, if you ask me."

"I tend to agree," he answered.

There was a long pause. "So how serious is this, really? Your condition, I mean."

"Serious as a heart attack," he answered glibly and he could practically hear her rolling her eyes on the other end of the phone. "See, I can make dumb jokes too. Don't worry, please. This procedure should go smoothly and then I really will be good as new. "

"Okay. And when do you think you will be back at work?"

"Within a week. Honestly, this is no big deal, Red."

"I just wish…if things were different…I want you to know that I would have wanted to be there with you, you know?"

He lowered his voice and decided to take a chance. "I would give just about anything to have you here with me right now."

"Sam—I don't want you to think...I don't know how we would…how we could…"

"But we _could_ Red. You have to see that. You're right, it wouldn't be easy. But we _could_."

She sighed. "I don't know. Maybe…"

He smiled. "Maybe is better than no…"

"You really are an optimist," she drawled. "I'm out of time. Please get word to Caputo so I can hear how you are doing. And Sam?"

"Yeah, Red?"

"Whatever else happens between us…I need you to know... _You_ are my person on the other side of the bars."

He bit his lip as he remembered her words after Morello's wedding: _Everybody has a soulmate._ _But_ _they're usually on the other side of the bars or the wall or the planet from you..._

"I know," he said and he felt the sorrow and hope and beauty and pain of it all at once. "And you're mine."


	5. Chapter 5

Red leaned against the wall watching the girls work the breakfast line and tried to look like it was any ordinary day, as if she wasn't going bat-shit crazy waiting for news. She ran a hand through her hair, ruffling it, and squared her shoulders. She was being ridiculous. The _procedure_ (not surgery!) had probably been as routine and uneventful as Healy had said it would be.

Except, what if it hadn't been? It was absolutely terrifying, how completely intertwined her fate had suddenly become with his. It felt like a physical blow each time she realized that the landscape of her own life would be rendered unrecognizable if something had gone wrong. What if she never had a chance to storm into his office again to complain, or read him the riot act or make him blush, or brush his hair off his forehead?

She shook her head. This kind of thinking was maudlin and hysterical; born of exhaustion. She had barely slept the night before. The worry and anxiety of the day had crept into her muscles and by the time she lay down on her bunk her back was completely seized up; a dull, relentless spasm of agony.

As she'd lain there, trying to ignore the pain, she relived the phone call with Healy over and over like a song on repeat. That conversation had spun completely out of control. When she had tracked down Chang, her only objective had been to get information and maybe make sure he knew that she cared, as a friend, whether he lived or died. Simple. Clean. Rational. And what had she done instead? She had confessed to feelings she'd had no intention of owning up to…feelings she hadn't even been sure she _had_ until they were spilling out of her mouth. She'd railed against his waste-of-space wife with a shocking amount of vitriol. She had changed her answer to his question about the future from a no to a maybe. And now, she found that she couldn't take it back. She'd tried—in the bleak hours of the early morning, she'd tried to convince herself that she'd been swept up in the drama, or felt some kind of guilt or obligation. The man was seriously flawed, she had absolutely no illusions about that. He was stuck in a time warp-he seemed to think it was permanently 1950—and some of his views were simply unacceptable. He had a buffoonish side to him that was much too easy to ridicule.

But she'd meant what she'd said to Katya. He was a good man. He was handsome. He was strong. He had a surprising sense of humor that came out when he stopped taking himself so seriously. His attempts to help the inmates could be somewhat…misguided, but his heart was usually in the right place.

By the time the black windows had lightened to stark gray light she knew this wasn't about pros and cons, good qualities vs. bad.

She had told Sam that he was her soul mate. And like it or not, it was true.

"Hey Red." Caputo's voiced snapped her back to attention and she watched him walk up to the line as her heart jumped into her throat. He nodded with a half smile. His steps were light, his eyes were clear and open. There was no indication that he came bearing bad news. Either Healy was fine, or he didn't know anything yet. She took a deep breath, tilted her head towards him and raised an eyebrow.

"Good morning," she drawled. "Come by for breakfast?" She waved a hand to indicate the disgusting array of inedible slop.

"Uh, no, no thanks...I'll pass." he said, wrinkling his nose as Gloria scooped a blob of brown goop onto a tray.

"Must be nice to have other options," she answered, wondering how much small talk would suffice before they mentioned Healy.

"Yeah, my trick is that I don't commit crimes that land me in prison."

She smirked. "Good tip."

"Look, I came by to tell you that Healy's heart surgery is finished and he came out of it just fine. I think his wife even said he's going home today."

Red nodded and kept her expression neutral. "Good for him. Maybe now he can lay off the donuts, huh?"

"Maybe. Well, I was just passing through and wanted to give you the update."

"Thanks Caputo. You sure I can't get you a delicious plate of green sludge? Maybe I could wrap it up to go?"

"Gonna have to pass. I've got a nice glazed donut waiting for me in my office."

Red waited until he was out of sight, then leaned her head against the wall and sighed and let herself smile.


	6. Chapter 6

Sam whistled as he walked down the hall for the first time in two weeks. He hadn't been this nervous or optimistic since he had been paired up in biology with Elizabeth Reynolds, the high school's head cheerleader. His steps faltered for a moment. Things hadn't turned out so well with the beautiful Elizabeth. But she had been an untouchable ice queen—a bubble gum princess, destined for the quarterback of the football team.

Red was more like the girl who wore thick black eyeliner and smoked in the bathroom during the lunch break. The kind of girl who had terrified him back in the day. Actually, she kind of terrified him now. But in the best possible way.

He stopped before he rounded the corner to the cafeteria and took a deep breath. Breakfast was in full swing. Before the new regime had taken over, Red would have been busy bustling around, supervising the cooking, checking on the line. Since the advent of the packaged meals she had very little to do besides maintenance, and yet he was hesitant to bust in during breakfast. But he had waited for nearly an hour in his office and he really didn't think he could wait anymore. His recovery, while uneventful, had taken a week longer than he had anticipated and he was crawling out of his skin, dying to se her.

The cafeteria was loud, as always. It felt jarring after the lonely hospital room and then two quiet weeks at home to hear so many female voices all at once. He breathed through his nose and exhaled slowly like the relaxation tapes instructed.

Suddenly, Doggett came barreling at him. "Hey, Mr. Healy, you're healed! I'm real happy for you. I prayed for your heart every night, Mr. Healy." She leaned towards him and lowered her voice. "While I was at it, I also prayed that God would soften your heart to some of the people around here who are homosexuals, but are also actually really fine people in spite of them being an abomination and all. I'd really like to talk to you some time to tell you some of the things I've learned and realized lately…"

"Yes, That's…thank you, Doggett. Come by my office and we can talk." He smiled briefly at her. He was still fond of the girl, although her choice in friends these days was highly suspect. He scanned the kitchen area, searching for Red but she was nowhere in sight.

"Yo Mr. Healy, looks like you up and running again! Right on!" Taystee did one of her signature dance moves as he passed and he smiled and gave her a quick wave.

"Yep, back in action," he said, distractedly. He glanced at the kitchen again and suddenly saw a shock of red and there she was, carrying an aluminum tray and speaking rapidly to Maritza as the girl exchanged an empty tray for the full one. His pace quickened in spite of himself and he felt as if he floated the twenty feet to where she stood. She was more beautiful than he had even remembered. Her sweet, lovely little face was a striking contradiction to her cranky, annoyed expression and he realized that he loved that paradox about her. He loved that she was tough and sweet and hard and gentle and everything he'd never known he'd always wanted.

Finally, she looked up and their eyes locked for he briefest of moments. Then her gaze flickered away and she said something to Gloria before glancing at him again, and thrusting out her chin. "Healy," she said flatly. "Good to see you among the land of the living. You're not here to eat are you? Or do you secretly have a death wish?" She smirked then looked up at him, eyes narrowed, red lips pursed.

He searched her face. Her eyes were hard, flinty. Closed down. Not even he barest hint of a genuine smile. It was like she was looking right through him. He felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him and it took him a moment to discern whether the blow was physical or emotional. He hadn't expected her to fling herself at him in front of the cafeteria, but this was beyond cold. He couldn't control what he knew must be a crestfallen expression so he forced his eyes down to the floor, anywhere but on Red. "I…uh…no, I'm not hungry, just…just passing through," he answered lamely.

Mendoza smiled warmly. "Good to have you back, Mr. Healy. We was all real worried about you."

He attempted a smile at her, but couldn't keep his eyes from darting back to Red, who appeared to be suddenly fixated on her nails.

"Okay," he nodded and swallowed around the dryness in his throat. "Okay. Well. It's nice to see…all of you..." Red looked back up at him but her expression was blank, as though the past month had never happened. As though the phone call in the hospital had been all in his head. He turned and headed for the exit. He felt absolutely sucker-punched, and broken. And old. The defeat and sorrow seeped its way through his body like a physical ache.

"Healy. Hang on a second."

He whipped his head around to see Red walking briskly toward him. "I meant to tell you," she said, and she looked over one shoulder and then the other, then slid her eyes back to look up at him and it was like the clouds had parted and the blinding sun came shining through because _there_ it was…Those expressive eyes smoldered and all of the ice from a moment before had melted away. "You need to take better care of yourself." She pulled a small wrapped package from her pocket and squeezed his fingers as she handed it to him. He squeezed back automatically and started to grab her hand more firmly when she pulled it away with a small, regretful shake of her head, glancing around them to indicate that eyes were everywhere. She was right. Of course she was right.

"I…thanks…" he stammered.

She beamed up at him and he saw tears shining in her clear blue eyes, and he felt, not for the first time, that they were communicating without words. The urge to take her in his arms and hold her was so strong that he had to willfully remind himself where they were and what the consequences of that action would be.

In a blink her crisp manner returned. "I'll come see you later today. I need to talk to you about my stove." She walked away, then looked over her shoulder and as she stared him dead in the eye, purred, 'The burners are running hot."


	7. Chapter 7

When Sam walked through the cafeteria door Red's pulse had spiked so hard and fast that for a moment she feared _she_ was having a heart attack. She had heard that he would be back today, but to her surprise, one look at his face set her on the verge of tears. She'd beaten a hasty retreat to her office before he spotted her and slammed the gate shut, leaning against the wall.

Her hands were trembling and she tightened them into fists, then opened them up and held them out in front of her. Still shaking. As she tried to get control of herself it hit her—hard like a shock but also soft and quiet, like a long known truth.

She was sixty years of age, and—for the first time in her life—she was in love.

Dmitri had seemed a like a good choice when they married. He was besotted with her, a girl much too pretty for him but much too mouthy and shrewd for the other men. He had wanted to please her. He was kind, he was a friend, they wanted the same things, they were from the same neighborhood. When he proposed it made sense to say yes. She hadn't been expecting hearts and flowers and she never felt real fireworks when she was with him but it was solid and it was good. Until it wasn't. But she had loved Dmitri in her way, once upon a time.

But Sam? Sam who was suddenly _Sam_ to her and not Healy, Sam who had been the background and the backbone of her life for so many years, Sam who had awoken something inside of her with a crate of corn….This was different entirely. This was sleepless, stomach churning, heart pounding emotion. This was irrational and dangerous and exciting and fragile. This was something so deep that it could be the best story of her life, or it could take her down and ruin her.

Alone in her office, Red confronted this new reality and let it sink into her bones. Then she wiped her tears on the edge of her apron, pulled herself together and prepared to hide the emotions churning inside of her.

She was a good actress when she needed to be. Her indifferent performance convinced everyone-including Sam. She couldn't stand that sad, betrayed look in his eyes. The fact that he believed she didn't care when all she wanted was to pull him to her and tell him everything she was feeling...What choice did she have but to chase after him?

And now, she realized with a start, she was standing in the middle of the cafeteria staring at the exit. She shook herself, stomped back to the kitchen, stepped over a puddle of spilled milk and yelled at Maritza to grab a mop. When she looked up Norma was standing there, gazing at her with a curious, probing expression. Red raised an eyebrow. "What's with you?"

Norma shrugged but with a suspicious look that Red did not like. "Listen to me, Oh, Silent One, you may be able to fool those idiots into thinking you are all-knowing, but you are not a mind reader. So stop looking at me like that!"

Norma widened her eyes in an exaggerated show of innocence. Red huffed a smile and shook her head to soften the exchange, but this was bad news. What had Norma seen? Her back had been to the woman. Sam had been facing her, so…Ah.

For someone who had been in the prison system for most of his career, the man really had no poker face. If Norma had been watching, if anybody had seen his expression as he had gazed at her, they would know how he felt in an instant.

She should be worried. And she was, they could not be discovered. But even so, there was something thrilling about knowing that he looked at her with so much obvious and visible love in his eyes that anyone could see it.

She just had to hope that the only person who had seen it was the only person in this place who wouldn't say a word.


	8. Chapter 8

Sam straightened papers on his desk and rearranged his bobble heads for what had to be the fiftieth time that morning. So far, this had been a very unproductive first day back at work. He had done little more than replay the look in Red's eyes as she had handed him the package—a blueberry bran muffin-–and reread her note over and over:

 _S—_

 _Blueberries have antioxidants which reduce heart attack risk. Bran reduces the risk of heart-related deaths. Oats lower cholesterol. None of these ingredients were easy for me to obtain. If I can go to these lengths to take care of your heart from the inside, then surely you can do the same on the outside._

 _No more eggs._

– _G_

He shook his head and chuckled at what appeared to be Red's idea of a coded love letter. And he smiled when he looked at the scrawled "G". It felt like a privilege to be be granted permission to use her given name and he marveled at his streak of luck. A little ironic to think of a heart attack as lucky, but he'd trade a heart attack for Galina Reznikov any day of the week.

There was a rap on the door and he looked up sharply.

"Doggett," He muttered, his heart sinking as he waved in the scrawny girl.

"Hey Mr. Healy. I know you're probably getting all settled in and all, but I just wanted to say again how glad I am to have you back here. Cause I really need someone to talk to-I have so many ideas just bustin' out of me. Like, for instance, I would really like to start Safe Place again, only a little different this time, like, a place that's safe for everyone to work stuff out, like regular people _and_ homosexuals. It could be like a forum, or like a round table kinda thing where we all, you know, state our case and maybe listen to each other and try to get a little understanding between us all. And I don't just mean the Lesbos, Mr. Healy, I mean like _all_ them other people in here who don't walk in the light, like those Wiccans and Norma-lites and Catholics...We could get all the sinners into one big room and just hash it out, civil like. And who knows? Maybe we'd even save a few souls. And if we don't," she shrugged. "We still might learn something. Like, for instance, just cause we're not all the same doesn't mean we have to be enemies."

Sam blinked and shook his head. Good god, he'd been back for less than three hours…He was not ready for Doggett on a mission.

"Listen, Doggett…" He shuffled his papers and looked up again and straight into Red's blue eyes. She stood at the door, hand on her hip, a secretive smile on her face. "Doggett, I'm going to have to get back to you. Those sound like some…interesting plans, and I'd like to discuss them at length. But Red and I have a…"

"We need to discuss my stove," she said brusquely. "It's an emergency."

Dogget stood to leave. "Sure thing, Mr. Healy. I'll be back later. Maybe I'll just swing on by here after lunch, so I can give you some details about the whole Safe Place idea."

"Why don't you write up a proposal, "Red interrupted. Outline your ideas with a clear presentation. Then come back. Should take you a couple of days." She quirked an eyebrow at him and he sent her a silent _thank you._

Doggett nodded. "That's sound advice. A presentation. I like that." She stood and walked over to Red. "You know, I'm interested in improving my skills with things like this, like making proposals and the like. And I feel like you would be into some of these ideas I've got. Maybe I'll swing by the kitchen when I get a draft ready and see if you have any input. You've got your shit together Red," she nodded. "i could learn a thing or two from you."

The look of alarm on Red's face was almost comical, but Doggett was turning to address Sam and missed it entirely.

"I'll hash this out with Red, and then I'll come in here and pitch it to you Mr. Healy. Catch you later." Finally Doggett walked out the door, but turned around at the last minute. "I'm really glad you're back, sir. And I'm so glad you didn't die." she said over her shoulder and then she was gone.

Red shut the door and leaned against it. "Most of what comes out of that girl's mouth is sheer ignorance and bigotry but I finally agree with her on one thing…" She smiled sweetly and walked towards him. "I'm really glad you're back too.

Sam stood up as she came around his desk and stopped right in front of him. "And I'm so glad you didn't die," she said, and her voice broke and tears filled her eyes as she brushed the hair off his forehead. "I really missed you."

He slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him, cupping her beautiful face in his hand. "I really missed you too, Galina," he whispered against her lips as he bent down to kiss her.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: I double-posted chapters 7 and 8 at the same time, and it looks like a lot of people missed chapter 7. it's not really a big deal, but if you are interested in Red's point of view on things, you might want to look back at it. But I think this will all make sense if you don't.

Also, thanks for reading! And thanks to everyone who has left a review. This is not a very popular pairing and it's easy to think you are posting into a void, so knowing someone is reading really helps and is greatly appreciated!

*I made a few changes on this chapter based on some of the feedback I received. I had reservations about this chapter and decided to tweak it a little.

* * *

The kiss lasted only seconds-just a brief, chaste press of her lips against his, and then suddenly she pushed out of his arms and took a step back. He felt all of the heat drain out of his face and his stomach plunged to the ground. Oh Jesus. Had he misread everything?

Red looked absolutely stricken and he cursed himself as he mustered up the strength to do damage control as quickly as possible. He knew he had to fix this for many very important reasons, but the impending heartbreak was crashing over him and jumbling his thoughts.

"Red, I'm…Jesus, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I thought that you wanted…"

"I did," she snapped, then pressed her fingers to her lips and he saw that she was fighting back tears. "I do," she said softly and shook her head. "I'm sorry. I just…haven't been…touched. In a very long time."

Sam searched her face as he tried to process her words.

"It was a shock," she said, looking down at her shoes. I'm not used to…physical intimacy or tenderness. That's not part of my life anymore."

"Intimacy and tenderness aren't really part of my life either. Not lately." Her head snapped back up as she looked right at him and he realized that this was only a half-truth and so he amended, "Not ever."

Her eyes flashed at that and it felt for a moment like looking in the mirror.

"Look," he stepped towards her. "Galina,"he said, and she looked almost pained as he spoke her name. "You're all I've thought about, these past two weeks, and so much longer than that... I don't even know how long I've felt this way. I don't know when it all started because I think it's always been there on some level. I tried to ignore it because you're right- this," he gestured between them, "Is not a normal relationship."

She huffed a laugh and a tear rolled down her cheek. He longed to brush it off. She hastily wiped it away with the back of her hand.

"But I don't care. I don't care if it's normal, I dont care if it's difficult or dangerous...I think we've both been lonely for a very long time. And now that we've found our way to eachother..." He shrugged. "I don't want to be lonely anymore."

She nodded and whispered, "I don't either."

"Honestly, just knowing that you're in the world and that I get to see you everyday and talk to you... and that you _understand_ me, and I _understand_ you? That's enough. That's more than I thought I would ever have. Anything else is just the cherry on top. What I'm saying is...I dont need to _touch_ you to _feel_ you."

Red cocked her head and looked at him for a long moment as if she were mining his soul to sift out the truth. Then she stepped towards him. She took his hand and held it in both of hers and looked down and brushed her thumb across his palm. She closed her eyes and brought his hand to her face and leaned her cheek against it. He felt like a butterfly had landed on his finger. He barely wanted to breathe. Very slowly he raised his other hand to cup her face and he traced the scar on her cheek with his thumb. When he looked back her eyes were wide open and he saw all of the pain and trepidation and tenderness and finally he leaned in and kissed her.


	10. Chapter 10

It was his palm that sealed the deal.

She had been sure when he kissed her the first time that it was too much-that she wasn't ready to be touched, and she wondered suddenly if that would ever change. It wasn't that she didn't want it-she did, more than she had expected. But she wasn't sure that she could stand the naked vulnerability of it. The simple touch of his lips had burnt through her with too much intensity. Being in here had changed her in a fundamental way and it seemed that intimacy might not be in the cards for her anymore.

And there was no ignoring the power dynamic here. She was the inmate. He was the officer. End of story.

But then he spoke of loneliness and understanding and looked at her with so much longing and tenderness…After all of these years he knew her so well-Christ, he had read her fucking file, he knew _terrible_ things about her. And still. He looked at her as if he adored her, scars and all. And it melted something inside of her.

So she took his hand, and as she swept her thumb across his palm, she conjured up the dusty teachings of her babushka and examined his heart line. Each of her girls had to pass this final test, this silent, secret reading of their palms. In Morello, she'd confirmed that the girl was as unstable as she was romantic. Norma had a hidden strength and was destined for something bigger than anyone could see-and it wasn't this ridiculous Norma-nite bullshit. Nicky's palm was devastating to read, and her lifeline was short, a fate Red had planned to do everything in her power to alter. In Sam's palm she read the roadmap of a misfit and a misguided searcher who wanted to be good but didn't always hit the mark. His hatched heart lines told a history of heartbreak and emotional trauma. There was a propensity for high emotion and for letting the heart overpower the mind.

And there was a remarkable capacity for love.

She didn't have to open her own hand to know that his heart lines mirrored those on her palm exactly.

Red had never been a coward and she never let anything stand in the way of what she wanted. And if prison had taught her anything, it was that the good didn't come around easily or often and when it did, you had to grab on with both hands. So she pressed her cheek into his hand and let all of the sadness and brokeness of the path of his heart absorb into her skin.

When he kissed her the second time, she froze for just a moment, the panic spiked just briefly before she wrestled it to the ground and kissed him back-soft and timid at first, but as the seconds passed she could feel her fear receding behind something much stronger.

He was the one to break the kiss. His hands still cupped her face and he searched her eyes. "Galina?" he said, with a cautious smile.

"Sam," she answered and couldn't help smiling back.

Then he leaned his forehead against hers. "I don't want to...rush this. And I don't want you to regret anything…"

"I won't," she said. Then she wound her arm around his neck and curled her fingers into his hair and he moved a hand down to the small of her back and drew her closer to him and they kissed again, and this time she felt her inhibitions and walls falling away.

She had just parted her lips, was just deepening the kiss when there was a loud rap on the door. They sprang apart and stared at one another in shock and horror, although really, what was so surprising about being interrupted? She'd let her guard down. She needed to be careful not to lose her head. Red scrambled to the other side of the desk and stood with her arms folded, heart racing. Sam smoothed down the front of his shirt, then brushed his fingers through the back of his hair.

"Come in," he croaked and cleared his throat as they forced their eyes away from one another and towards the door.

Caputo entered holding a large file in one hand and a coffee cup in the other.

"Hey Healy," he said, then he saw her standing there. "Wow, Red, you're quick on the uptake. Do you have pressing business here, or are you just the welcome wagon?"

Red narrowed her eyes and gritted out, "The burners on my stove are shot."

Caputo huffed out a cynical laugh. "Oh shit. You're on the same mission you were on two weeks ago aren't you? The man's back at his desk for a hot minute and you're pouncing on him to do you a favor." He rolled his eyes. "You know for a second there I thought you might have actually cared about someone else's welfare. I mean, the way you've been moping around the place the past two weeks…I thought maybe you'd gone soft."

She risked a glance at Sam and rolled her eyes at his pleased expression. "Yeah. Well. Caring is for the weak and the delusional."

Caputo shook his head at her. "Jesus Christ, you are one stone cold bitch."

"Caputo," Sam barked , and she shot him a look of warning. If he did something inane, like defend her...

Caputo looked at Sam, then back and her.

"Look at the two of you…" he said, with a surprised but smug look on his face and she felt her blood turn cold. "Your faces are both flushed, Healy you look like you're about to break into a sweat. Christ, I see what's going on here."

"What are you talking about," Sam answered, too defensively. He looked horrified and she willed him with her eyes to play it cool.

"It's obvious!" Caputo crowed. "Red came storming in here with her scary Russian accent and _demanded_ you get her a new stove and you finally, _finally_ told her NO!" He clapped Sam on the back. "Good man. It's about time. But you," he turned on Red. "You should be ashamed of yourself…arguing with a man who's just been released from the hospital for a heart attack? That's a new low, Red, even for you."

She took advantage of her burning cheeks and cast her eyes down, trying to look ashamed. "Maybe my timing could have been better."

"Take it easy on the man, alright? Jesus. Go on, before you send him back into cardiac arrest," he said waving her to the door.

"I should have known that this place has no interest in efficiency," she said and shot Sam a regretful glance behind Caputo's back.

The smile he beamed at her was small, almost imperceptible but it was there and it was too gentle, too..besotted. Caputo was looking right at him. He would give them away before they ever got started. She gave him a warning look and his smile faded. This was too dangerous. He was too easy to read. And she was letting her emotions carry her away-and she had learned to never, ever let that happen. It had never worked out for her on the outside and it sure as hell wasn't going to work in here. This was not a place for _love_. This was a place to survive the next two years. What was she doing mucking things up now? If this continued it would be disaster for both of them. The doom they would face was written on both of their hands: a legacy of heartbreak, trauma; overly passionate natures leading to ruin. How far would they fall if they twined these threads together?

As she turned on her heel she heard Captuto say, "Here's Nichol's file, although I don't know what you're expecting to find in there. That girl is out of our hair and it's a blessing. She's never getting out of max."

Nicky. Sam was looking into Nicky.

It was as if her heart stopped beating as the weight of this pressed down on her and then, just as quickly, lifted, leaving her feeling as if she were floating. She had already accepted, against her better judgment, that she loved hiim. But maybe before this she could have walked away for the good of them both. But now it was too late. The man was trying to save her only true daughter. For her.

And whether he succeeded or failed, she would never be able to let him go.


	11. Chapter 11

Red worked lunch on auto-pilot. She focused all of her energy on ignoring the butterflies in her stomach and suppressing the smile that threatened to slip across her face in spite her best efforts to scowl at everyone who crossed her path.

This was ridiculous. _She_ was ridiculous. She did not do _giddy_. Giddy was for teenagers, and even at sixteen she hadn't been one of those silly, giggling girls who got stars in her eyes every time a boy smiled her way.

Not to mention that she was sixty, not sixteen, and this was a prison, not a high school. And yet, here she was, trying to will herself to stop. feeling. so. fucking. Happy!

God help her, she was in this all the way now and the only exit back to sanity had been paved over by the proof that Sam not only knew her to the core, but was willing to take on the impossible. For her.

She shouldn't get her hopes up. Hope was a dangerous thing in a place like this. The likelihood of Nicky coming back from max was close to nil. And yet…she had heard rumors about Luschek. He had big money coming in from some bullshit source. She wasn't the only one who thought his naming of Nicky went deeper than the prison had cared to investigate. If she and Sam worked on this together: if he used his access and connections on the outside and she got the intel and dirt on the inside, then maybe, _maybe_ there was a chance.

She felt eyes on her and snapped out of her reverie to see Norma watching her with her arms folded. She realized she was holding a spoon in mid air and staring into space like a simpleton. Norma grabbed Red by the shoulders, spun her around and marched her into her office.

"What? What is it?" Red asked.

Norma gave her a hard look, then pulled the dopiest, mooniest face imaginable, batting her eyes like an idiot. She stopped abruptly and pointed at Red.

Red shrugged as if she had no idea what Norma was doing. "You have something in your eye?"

Norma exhaled in disgust, then crossed her arms over her chest, and squeezed as if giving herself a hug.

"What is that? Are you cold?"

Norma just glared at her and drew a heart in the air and pointed at her again.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Red answered, but she felt the blush creeping up her neck.

This time Norma made a heart shape with her hands and made kissing faces.

"Oh for god's sake, what are you trying to say? That I'm in love?" she hissed, and Norma smiled smugly and tapped her forefinger to her nose. Shit. She had just let a mute trick her into incriminating herself.

"Don't be absurd. I am not in love with anyone…"

Norma grabbed her by the shoulders again and gave her a serious look, then mimed locking her lips and throwing away a key. She put her hand to her heart and gazed at Red with her kind, soulful eyes.

Of course Red trusted that she wouldn't tell. And Norma knew it all already anyway. She had known how Sam felt since this morning and she had obviously figured out the rest of the story by watching Red. Hell, it wouldn't surprise her if Norma had figured it out a long time ago. She might have even known before Red did.

"Fine," she sighed. "Yes, I have…feelings. For…you know who for."

Norma wrinkled her nose, then searched her eyes and shrugged with a lost, puzzled expression.

Red sighed. "Believe me, no one is more surprised than I am. And I know how hard this is to believe. But he's a good man…"

Norma winced and bit her lip.

"You don't know him like I do." She leaned closer and whispered, "He's trying to bring Nicky back."

Norma's face lit up in shock and delight.

"Don't get excited, I don't think it's going to happen. But he's trying." She sighed. "Look. Do me a favor. Don't make me defend him. I know it's a lot to ask, but please…I haven't had anything like this in such a long time." _Or ever,_ she thought privately. "And I couldn't explain it to you even if I wanted to. I don't know why I feel this way. It's not a…tangible thing. Just...trust me, ok?"

Norma looked at her for a long, heavy moment, then nodded sagely.

"So do you think anyone else suspects?" Red asked hesitantly.

Norma shook her head firmly.

"It's not totally obvious then?"

Norma touched Red's shoulder and shook her head. Then she pointed in the direction of Sam's office and nodded vigorously.

"Shit," Red sighed. "He really needs to work on that."

Norma nodded in emphatic agreement. Then she smiled her angelic smile and embraced Red in the kind of life-affirming hug only Norma could give.

* * *

Sam threw the file on his desk and sighed. He had read the same paragraph for the third time without absorbing a single word. As desperately as he wanted to focus on Nichol's case, all he could seem to do was relive the feeling of Red's lips against his.

That kiss had been a revelation. The feeling of Red, strong and powerful and yet so sweet and soft in his arms was so perfect it bordered on painful. And yet, he couldn't fully embrace the joy that hovered just above him because he couldn't shake the feeling that somewhere between the kiss and Captuto he had blown it. That stony glare she had given him when she left his office…that did not bode well. He wanted to track her down, but it wouldn't do any good. There would be no privacy in the bunks or the kitchen, not at this hour.

And beyond the frustration at the interruption and the worry that he had done something wrong, was the fact that he still hadn't had a chance to really talk to her. It had been two long weeks with only a short (albeit significant) phone call between them. He just…missed her. He missed her wit and sarcasm and her grave moments of honesty. He wanted to hear how she was doing, what was going on in the kitchen, how she was coping without Nicky…

He wanted, more than anything, to get Nichols back for Red. He'd seen the deep pain her eyes when she had confessed that she thought she could save her. The girl had broken her heart and the fact that he didn't know how to fix it made him feel totally powerless.

There was a quiet rap on the door.

"Come in," he yelled, his heart racing with hope until he realized a split second later that the knock was far to soft to be hers.

Norma entered holding a plastic cup and a piece of paper. She handed both out to him with a shy smile.

"Um, thanks," he said, peering into the cup. Some kind of thick, purplish concoction.

He took the note eagerly. "Thank you, Norma," he said, puzzled.

She nodded and looked at him with…gratitude? Respect? He was startled. What was going on here? Did Norma know about him and Red?

As if in answer to his question she put her index finger to her lips, then winked at him.

He frantically opened the note before she was even out the door.

 _I didn't tell her, she saw for herself._

 _Trust me, she's not going to say anything._

 _But never forget, eyes are everywhere in this place._

 _Enjoy your smoothie._

 _Yogurt helps reduce plaque buildup in the arteries._

 _Almonds lower LDL cholesterol._

 _Make yourself one of these everyday._

 _Recipe is on the back._

 _p.s._

 _Greenhouse in ten minutes._

Sam laughed in sheer relief and looked at the clock. Ten minutes had never seemed like such a long time to wait.


	12. Chapter 12

Red paced the greenhouse and tried to calm her nerves.

She heard footsteps approaching and picked up a trowel to give her a cover, just in case it wasn't him.

The door opened and he entered and smiled at her with that adoring look in his eyes.

It made her melt, just a little, but it also pissed her off. Yes, they were alone right now. But it didn't seem to matter. He'd been looking at her all day with that same smitten look in his eyes, regardless of who was around. She pointed the trowel at him. "That right there. _That_ is how Norma knows…"

He looked confused and a little deflated by her greeting. "Excuse me?"

"That moony, love-struck look in your eyes. You look at me like that in public again, and the whole prison will know how you feel about me within five minutes. And this," she waved the trowel between them, "will be over before it starts. That smile you gave me in front of Caputo? That's all it takes for us to be in some serious shit."

He swallowed hard. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"

"You wouldn't last ten seconds on this side of the bars, wearing your heart on your sleeve like that," she said, dropping the trowel and approaching him. "But you'll be wearing your own pair of khakis if anyone finds out about this. And as for me? There's nowhere left for me to go but all the way down to the bottom."

"I'm sorry," he said again. He was searching her face, practically caressing her with his eyes. And it was having a strangely powerful effect on her. "You're right and I'm sorry. I would never want to compromise you. I just…" He sighed. "Look, I promise to do better."

She swallowed hard. The puppy dog eyes were starting to weaken her resolve. "Yeah, well. You're going to need a lot of help. Lucky for you, you happen to know a pro." She crossed her arms. "So. Tell me two truths and a lie. And make me believe all of them."

He shifted his feet and frowned at her. "You want me to lie to you?"

"Yes."

"Right now?"

"Yes. Two truths, one lie. Don't let me know which is which. If this is happening," she gestured between them, "You are going to have to get used to lying. This is practice. Go."

He exhaled, looking totally perplexed. "Okay. Um. Okay...One." He thought for a moment. "Katya left me a message. She found a place and she's moving out on Saturday."

God he really was bad at this. That was so obviously true. And also…very welcome news, she realized. She fought to keep her expression stern and unchanging. "Ok. Two."

"Uh, two." He shrugged and cleared his throat. "Well, two is…that I've thought about you every minute that I've been away from you."

He stepped closer to her and her heart pounded. She rolled her eyes and sniffed but couldn't hold back a small smile.

"And, three. Three is that I..I _don't_ want to take you in my arms and kiss you senseless right now," he said, looking at her as if he wanted to devour her. Jesus, was he even trying?

Fine. If he wasn't going to take this seriously she would bring out the big guns. She leaned closer to him. "Well that's good," she said and lowered her voice to a menacing tone, full of ice. "Because you disgust me. And if you ever lay a hand on me again I'll make sure that badge isn't the only thing you lose forever."

He stumbled back, his face as shocked as if she had slapped him. His eyes were stricken and in a flash she felt as if she could read all of the hurtful words that had assaulted him in his lifetime. She'd been trying to make an impact, trying to teach him a lesson and for Red a good lesson always came with a punch to the gut. But she thought of the hatched lines across the heart line on his palm, of all of trauma they indicated, and suddenly she knew she had gone too far…

She grabbed his shirt in both hands and pulled him against her and looked up at him. She was on the verge of tears, but for once she didn't care, and she let everything she was feeling shine through her eyes. " _That_ is how you tell a lie, _lyubov moya,_ "" she whispered against his lips.

He froze for a moment, breathing hard against her mouth, then suddenly tangled one hand in her hair, gripped her hip with the other and crushed her to him. He kissed her fiercely, and her mouth opened under his and she let go of his shirt and twined her arms around his neck pressing even closer against him. A spark of electricity traveled down the base of her spine and then spread all throughout her, as he walked her backwards and she bumped up against the table. He tore away from her mouth and kissed his way to the back of to her neck and…god, how did he know that spot was her weakness?

She couldn't stop the moan that escaped when his teeth scraped a path from behind her ear to her collarbone. Her only rational thought was that they weren't close enough. As if reading her mind, he hoisted her up onto the table and stepped between her legs and it felt so good and so, so right. She noticed through the haze of lust that his hand supported her lower back in the exact place that gave her pain, and for some reason this gentleness in the midst of passion made her feel like crying. He cupped her jaw with his free hand and kissed her again. She pulled at his lower lip with her teeth and he groaned and slid his hand down her neck, over her breast and around her hip. She whimpered against his mouth and he pulled back and looked at her. "Galina," he whispered. "Jesus, look at you. How do you expect me to be able to look at you like I don't want you, like I don't love…"

She kissed him before he said anything else. It was one thing to know it. It was an entirely different thing to speak it out loud.

His hand was on her thigh, inches and miles away from where she really wanted it to be, and yet the lazy circle he was making with his thumb was driving her crazy. She arched her back and the pain stabbed through her, screaming in her ears like the whistle of a freight train, knocking her sideways.

When the spasm eased off she opened her eyes to see him looking at her with surprised, worried eyes.

"Your back?"

"My back…" she gritted out, and tried to move off the table but was stopped in her tracks by another spasm.

"Jesus, I'm so sorry Red. How can I help?"

"I need to lie down on this table," she answered, feeling foolish and embarrassed and old.

Very gently he swung her legs up and maneuvered her so her back was flat. Then he stroked her hair out of her eyes. "What else?"

"Nothing else," she answered. "When it gets like this, I just have to wait."

"I wasn't thinking…that table…"

"It wasn't your fault. I moved…wrong," she said, eyes downcast. This was humiliating.

"I wasn't thinking..." he repeated.

"Neither was I," she chuckled dryly. "Here we are, going at it in the greenhouse like teenagers after my big speech on being careful."

"Yeah, probably not the best place to…to…"

"Definitely not. Anyone could…"she stopped and winced through another spasm. "Anyone could come in here at any time. I only asked you to meet me here because I didn't want Caputo to see me anywhere near your office again today."

"In a way it's probably good that your back stopped it…"

She raised an eyebrow and gave him a dry look. "You're glad I threw out my back? Gee. Thanks."

"No, of course I don't mean…I hate seeing you in pain, I just…"

"Relax," she murmured. "I'm kidding."

"I just meant that I don't really want it to be like this…on a table in the green house."

"Oh, really, and what do you have planned? Are you taking me to a five star hotel in the city?"

He shrugged his shoulders and looked at her seriously. "Someday, I hope. But until that's possible, I just think you deserve better than…this."

She frowned at him. "I can't decide if you're romantic or crazy."

"Maybe both?" he asked.

"Definitely both," she smiled.

"Well I'm definitely crazy for you."

"Please," she winced. "Are you trying to give me a toothache to match the pain in my back?"

He laughed, then ran a finger down the side of her face. "Isn't there anything I can do to help?"

"Well…you could try to massage it. But it's tricky. It needs just the right pressure."

"Okay," he said. "Walk me through it."

"I don't want to move. But if you can slip your hand under my back and feel the knot…"

He leaned across her to reach her back. "Here?" he asked, finding it instantly.

"How did you…"

He smiled. "I've been watching you grab your back right in this spot for years," he answered. "I could find it blind folded." He pressed gently and started to rub. "Is this ok?"

"Yes," she said as he massaged the bunched muscle with gentle but strong fingers. She reached up and touched his cheek, and smiled softly at him. "Yes, that's perfect."


	13. Chapter 13

"I'm going to have to go soon," Red murmured drowsily.

He sighed. "I know."

They had been in the greenhouse for almost an hour and he'd been blocking out all thoughts of the outside world pretty effectively for at least half of that time. But he felt a lump in his throat as he realized that soon they would sneak out of here separately and resume their roles of inmate and counselor.

It was just his luck, to finally get the girl of his dreams and not be able to really have her.

Well.

Not yet.

"Can you get up, do you think?"

"I think so," she said, extending her hand to him. "One way to find out."

He gripped her arm with one hand and supported her back with the other. She winced as he pulled her upright and he stopped but she hissed, "Keep going, it's not that bad." He didn't believe her, but there wasn't much of a choice so he maneuvered her until she was standing, then took her hand. She smiled at him, almost shyly, and said, "Well. This was an…eventful afternoon."

He smiled. "You think? I thought it was a pretty standard first day back at work after a minor heart attack. Punch in, do a little paperwork, make out with a gorgeous Russian in the green house…Just another ho-hum day at Litchfield."

"Right," she nodded, dead-pan, but her cheeks colored and he marveled at this brilliant new turn of events. Who would have thought that he could ever make the notorious Red blush? "Par for the course from my end as well," she continued. "I take all of my breaks in here with various guards and counselors. I have my way with them and then I make them massage my back." she shrugged. "You gotta do something to pass the time."

"Everybody needs a hobby…" he said and they grinned at each other. "By the way, I never said thanks for the muffin. And the smoothie."

She waved a hand, "Least I can do," she said, but he knew how important it was to her. He'd read that book about love languages that his counselor had given him. All he'd been able to gain from it was that Katya's language was money and shopping. But one of Red's love languages was obviously food.

"I think the only decent meals I've had in the past decade have come out of your kitchen."

"Well, you can't eat the pig slop we serve now. It might not give you a heart attack, but it will encourage you to commit suicide. Caputo started bringing in his own food and has me cook him breakfast. You could do the same. That would at least take care of one meal for you."

"I wouldn't ask you to do that…"

"You're not asking, I'm offering. And besides…" her eyes twinkled. "You could bring me real ingredients to work with!"

He nodded. "And maybe I could bring a little extra, for the chef…"

"Well," she smiled. "If you insist…"

"And if Caputo is doing it…"

"No one will think anything of it. But that's only one meal. You can't continue to survive on takeout and frozen food."

"I guess I should start learning how to make a few things. I've never really cooked much. And I've never really been around anyone who cooks. My mother, she had a predilection for burning everything. We ate a lot of soup and sandwiches. And Katya…I think she made dinner about three times a year."

Red grimaced. "Useless excuse for a woman," she muttered. "She's really leaving then?"

"She's really leaving," he said and exhaled.

"And you're…okay with that?" She asked, looking down to pick an invisible speck of lint off her knee.

She looked so awkward and vulnerable that he just wanted to sweep her into his arms but he didn't think she'd appreciate a dramatic gesture of reassurance. "Okay? I'm ecstatic!" She peeked up him and he lifted her chin to look at her. "Galina. There's only one woman I want in my life."

She rolled her eyes as he had known she would. "You know you're gonna kill me with all of this sappiness."

"I think you like it just a little."

"I think you forget who you're dealing with. I'm a hardened criminal. I don't go in for that mushy hearts and flowers nonsense," she said, but she gazed up at him through her lashes and smiled. Then she cocked her head, and narrowed her eyes, examining him.

"What?" he asked.

"I know you're going to try, but…I don't trust that you can look at me in public without...looking at me like that. We need a sign."

"A sign?"

"Yes. If you're feeling compelled to communicate with me or to, I don't know, touch base with me when people are around, just put your hand here." She guided his hand to his heart. "I'll know what you mean. Just keep it off of your face, hmm?"

"Ok," he said. "That's a good idea."

She shrugged. " It's from living with Norma all these years. We have our own language by now." She dropped his hand. "Okay. Enough stalling. We have to go."

"I know, " he said, his smile fading. Again, he wanted pull her to him and kiss her, but he felt he had missed his window. It was subtle and invisible, but he could already feel her putting back the walls she needed in order to survive as an inmate. Galina was disappearing and Red was coming back to take her place.

"I'll leave first. Give me a head start then go make the rounds outside so you're seen out here. Norma's already got my cover story if anyone's been looking for me."

"Okay…"

"Then avoid me for a couple of days. Try not to cross my path, don't come looking for me and I'll stay clear of you."

He felt as if she had doused him with cold water. "A couple of days?" What was she talking about? He was just barely imagining saying goodbye until the morning and she was talking about days? "Why? You can come to my office, you always come to my office, no one would think…"

"Because," she purred and reached up and brushed his hair off his forehead. "I don't want to wait for a five-star hotel. But you're right, I don't want to rush this. So, if this is more than a one-time thing…"

"Of course it is!"

"Then we have to find a way to see each other regularly without raising suspicion." She gave him that wicked little smile that always reminded him of a cat swishing its tail before it pounced on a helpless mouse. "And I have a plan…"

* * *

Sam glanced at the clock and smoothed down his shirt. Red had been very specific about when to head to the kitchen.

He had listened with admiration as she outlined her plan in the greenhouse, two days before. It felt like a privilege, seeing things from this side of the curtain, being privy to the inner workings of her clever, scheming mind and he realized, not for the first time, how easy it had been for her to play him all of these years. And still, he wasn't bitter. He had always known that she was smarter, quicker and sharper than he was. He just didn't take it personally because in his opinion she was smarter, quicker and sharper than everybody. She was in a league of her own. And for some inexplicable, miraculous reason, she wanted him.

He'd had one quick glimpse of her when they had passed one another in the corridor the day before. It was accidental on both of their parts, he could tell by the quick flash of surprise on her face that she hadn't come seeking him out, and he was just walking back from the break room with a cup of coffee. He fought to keep his expression neutral as one of the new guards rounded the corner.

"Inmate," the guard said to Red. "You better get moving or you're going to be late for count."

His hand tightened around the handle of his mug. He really didn't care for the guy's tone.

Red looked up at the guard with her fiery eyes, cocked her head a little to the side and said, "Yes sir."

Right words, but everything about her attitude and posture were insolent and the guard knew it. "Move it Reznikov," he barked.

She'd strutted down the hall with that walk that managed to project cockiness and swagger, even as she clutched her lower back.

As the guard passed him, Sam heard him mutter, "Someone ought to knock that old bitch down a peg," and it took every ounce of his self control not to slam the asshole's head against the wall.

However, it was true that Red needed to lay off the attitude. If she really wanted to fly under the radar, she needed to try not to piss everyone off.

That had been the only time he'd laid eyes on her in two days, and he'd been crawling out of his skin waiting to see her again ever since. He checked the clock again. Eight ten. It was go time. He wanted to do this right because it meant he would see more of Red. But it was also important to show her he could pull it off.

He cracked his knuckles and headed for the cafeteria.


	14. Chapter 14

"Hey, Red, can I drop this off for you to take a look at?" Doggett waved a black folder at her over the vat of congealed oatmeal. "I stayed up real late last night getting this done."

Red sighed. She didn't have time to get into this right now. Caputo was going to walk through the cafeteria doors any second.

Why had she hatched this convoluted plan with Sam? Head over heart: how many times would she need this lesson drilled into her thick skull?

She looked up at Doggett and pointed a spoon at her. "Did you do the outline the way that I showed you?" she asked, her eyes darting to the entrance. "Because I'm only looking at this once. This isn't school, I'm not going to mark your mistakes with a red pen."

"Well, jeez, I hope not! Don't put marks on my proposal, Red, I've only got the one copy and it took me long enough as it is."

Red rolled her eyes heavenward. This girl was an absolute trial. When she'd first darkened the doorway of the kitchen, Red had cursed inwardly at Sam for suggesting that Doggett come to her for help. She'd been tempted to chase her away forever with a few choice words, but she had a feeling that Doggett didn't scare that easily. And she knew that Sam had a bizarre fondness for the girl, so she felt somehow obligated to hear her out.

However, in the past two days, Doggett had surprised her with her passion and sincerity. Red wasn't a fan of organized groups of people sitting around talking about their experiences and emotions—it was all a little too touchy feely for her taste. But the idea was admirable, if not directly appealing to Red. Why not have a forum where people could come together and try to bridge the gaps? Look at poor Sofia. She doubted something like this would have completely changed the course of her fate, but who knew? Maybe it would have helped diffuse some of the tension. They all had to exist in this place. Maybe a group like this could be useful after all.

But more than that, she realized that this was her path into beginning the process of opening Sam's mind with regard to some of his archaic and, frankly, bigoted ideas. So she agreed to help. Doggett's special blend of ignorance and enthusiasm created a cluster fuck of scattered ideas, but Red had always been good at mining coal for diamonds. She had shaped Doggett's core concept into a model that would be an interesting social experiment, at the very least.

Doggett took the folder out of her hands and flipped to a page titled, _Rules._ "See: I took out out the rule about how the lesbians need to refrain from copping a feel if anyone gets vulnerable and decides to hug during or after the meeting. I see your point on that one, Red. I guess if it becomes a problem, we can deal with it when the time comes." Doggett smiled at her eagerly, like a puppy begging for a pat on the head.

"Good call," Red answered distractedly as Caputo walked into the cafeteria and toward the line. "Look, I'll take a look at this and give you my input later. I need to get back to the kitchen…"

"Okay, catch you later, Red," Doggett called, a worshipful expression on her face. Red could practically feel the girl imprinting on her. Well too bad. She was willing to help her with her little project, but she would never accept _Pennsatucky_ into her family.

She glanced at the clock. Sam would be walking in any minute.

The plan had seemed easy and risk free when she first thought of it, but she hadn't really been in her right mind at the time, had she? The seclusion of the greenhouse, Sam's strong hands loosening the knot on her back and the memory of his mouth on hers had emboldened her.

But what if this little scheme failed, or worse yet, somehow exposed them? This thought had looped around and around her mind for the past two days, and yet she hadn't brought herself to stop it. Because she wanted it to work. Because she wanted more time with Sam. Just a few months ago she would have laughed until she cried if someone had suggested she would be risking her neck to spend _more time_ with Healy. But now, it was not only something she wanted. It felt like a necessity.

And shit, there he was. Her stomach flip-flopped and not just because this was a stupid, hare-brained idea. He looked over at her and his face was stern and stoic—no trace of stars in his eyes, and she felt flooded with relief. Maybe he could pull this off after all.

Suddenly she felt an elbow in the side and she turned to see Norma glaring at her, "Ouch, what the hell was that for?"

Norma drew a circle in the air around her own face then pointed to Red. Oh shit. Sam wasn't showing any emotion. But apparently she was.

She snapped her jaw shut and straightened her spine as she watched him greet Caputo. This was her cue. She plated Captuo's breakfast and walked to the counter where the two men were standing.

"One egg and cheese sandwich," she said, dryly, handing over the plate.

"Ah, thank you, Red," Caputo said, and he picked up the sandwich and took a large bite. "Mmm," he nodded.

"Wow, "Sam said. "That looks pretty good."

"Yeah," Caputo answered, chewing. "It's not half bad. Who knew—Red can actually cook when she's got some decent ingredients to work with."

"So, what, did you bring the food in yourself?" Sam asked.

Caputo nodded, taking another bite. "You should do that too, Healy. I mean, now that you're going to be a bachelor again soon…And Red doesn't mind? Do you Red?"

"He shouldn't have eggs…" she drawled, busying herself by cleaning the counter.

"Come on, you're always complaining that you don't have anything to do in the kitchen. Here's a job for you. Cook the poor man some healthy food in the morning."

"I do need to start eating healthier," Sam added. "And I'm really not much of a cook. And now that Katya…" He cast his eyes down and shrugged. "Well. According to my doctor diet is important."

"Let me get this straight," she said, looking him intently in the eye. He was doing well. There was no trace of the lovesick expression on his face. Maybe she had underestimated him… "Are you asking me if I will cook you breakfast? Because if you're asking" she planted her palms on the counter and narrowed her eyes at him, "the answer is no."

Sam shared a glance with Caputo and said. "Okay then. Let's just say it's more of a strong suggestion."

Red rolled her eyes. "Great. Perfect. Another tailor-made breakfast. Why not? Bring your food here and let me know what you want," she scrubbed the counter with her rag and muttered under her breath, "Why don't you grow up and take a goddamn cooking class."

"Language!" he barked sharply and Caputo sniffed a surprised laugh as he took another bite of his sandwich. "But that's not a bad idea. I actually looked into some local cooking classes but they're all overpriced, fancy, viet-kong fusion crap. I'm just interested in simple, healthy meals."

She threw up her hands. "For god's sake, you men have an answer for everything. There must be somewhere you can learn how to cook."

Healy and Caputo looked at one another. Then they both looked back at Red.

"Yeah, now that you mention it…I do know someone who can cook." He raised his eyebrows and looked meaningfully at her. He was nailing this and it was strangely arousing to see him so competent and confident.

She threw the rag down and put her hands on her hips. "You've got to be kidding. You want me to give you cooking lessons?"

He shrugged. "Consider it a favor. I think you've called in enough of those from me over the years, don't you?"

"He's got you there, Red." Caputo chimed in.

"It's too busy in here. You don't want to interfere with my productivity, do you?"

"I've been having trouble sleeping since the heart attack. Been getting up really early these days. And with an empty house…well. Let's just say I need something to keep myself busy. I'll meet you here before anyone else is in the kitchen. I won't be in anyone's way."

"For god's sake, Healy, I already get up at the crack of dawn. You're going to rob me of my sleep? It's the only solace I have left in this shithole."

"Sorry, Red. You'll have to make up that beauty sleep some other way. And that's too bad," he said, with a jeer at Caputo. "Because we all know you could really use it."

Red had to force herself to look indignant but inside she was cheering! That had been complete improvisation on his part and it was perfect.

Caputo let out a hoot of laughter. "Wow, Healy. Looks like your surgery killed off whatever part of your heart had a soft spot for Russian women."

Sam smirked, "Yeah, maybe so."

"You're going to let him do this?" she demanded to Caputo.

Caputo shrugged. "It's not exactly regulation, but then again," he looked at the last bite of his sandwich. "Neither is this. But it _is_ delicious," he said and stuffed it into his mouth. "Turnabout is fair play, Red," he said with his mouth full.

"Fine. Are we done here?" She fumed. "Can I get back to my real job now, or do you boys have more little errands you would like me to do for you? Maybe you need me to darn your socks, or wash your underwear… "

"See you bright and early, Red," Sam said and turned to walk away.

Caputo clapped him on the back. "I'm impressed Healy. You're finally standing up to the old broad. It's about time someone gave her a taste of her own medicine."

They sauntered away, but at the last minute Sam turned and looked right into her eyes and placed his hand over his heart.

She vey quickly touched her chest in return.

Her heart was pounding.


	15. Chapter 15

"Good morning…"

Sam jumped and turned to see Red standing behind him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "It's so quiet in here. I didn't want to make any noise."

She looked sleepy and sexy and adorable. It had been three days since the greenhouse and he ached to take her in his arms, but even though the kitchen was deserted it felt too open and exposed. "Good morning. Is anyone else awake?" he whispered back.

She took a step closer to him. "Some of the early birds get up and take their showers around now." She tipped her head up, gazing at him with a sweet, open expression that made him feel ten feet tall. "And you know the guards come and go all the time. So we have to be careful."

He nodded. "I know. I'm just happy I get to be here with you. This was a pretty great plan."

"Well, you gave an impressive performance yesterday." She grinned. "Not bad for someone on the wrong side of the bars."

She closed the gap so that there were just inches between them. He flexed his fingers to stop himself from reaching out for her. "Yeah, well. You were the brains behind the outfit."

She shrugged. "We make a good team. You'd think we'd been running scams together for years."

"I think maybe we have. This is just the first time I was your partner instead of your pawn."

She clucked her tongue. "That's not true. You helped me get back my kitchen…and you cleared Warren after I asked you to get her off the hook and point them to Vee. I know you lost your parking spot to Luschek over that, by the way."

"How did you hear that?"

"Come on. There is no such thing as a secret in this place. But I don't think I ever thanked you properly." She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. " Remind me to do that very soon," she said with a mischievous grin.

The touch of her hand in his was electric. He wanted to grab her and receive his thanks right now, but she was right: they had to be careful. "You don't need to thank me. I almost let you down. Seeing you beat up like that…I don't know, part of me just didn't want things to get worse for you with the ghetto, but I was also feeling pretty beat up by this place in general. Would you believe that Doggett of all people gave me the pep talk that turned me around?"

"Hold on," she said glaring at him. "You're saying that you were able to resist me lying in a hospital bed with a gash to the head and a bashed in eye socket, but _Pennsatucky_ got through to you?

"I'm saying that she gave me the push to do the right thing. But you were the reason."

She narrowed her eyes. "Even back then?"

"Come on, Galina. Think of the lengths I've gone to for you over the years. It's hard to believe it took me so long to realize that I'm head over heels in…"

She stiffened and pulled her hand away, staring at him with alarmed eyes.

"Uh...In...fatuated with you."

She let out her breath and relaxed her shoulders. This was the second time she had stopped him from saying it. Why? She had to know that he was crazy in love with her. Why didn't she want to hear it?

She paced away from him and his heart sank. Was she angry? Upset? Then she nodded her head towards her office. He followed her around the corner, perplexed. She took his hand and pulled him to her as she backed up against the wall, then kissed his palm. She wrapped a hand around his neck and pulled him down to her, kissing him slow and sweet but with something darker curling at the edges. She broke the kiss off and looking almost surprised, whispered, "I missed you."

"I…missed you too…"he said,surprised but relieved by the change in her mood. He traced the scar on her cheek with his thumb. Her scar held some kind of strange, magnetic quality that he didn't fully understand. It was proof of her fragility and vulnerability, and yet it was also evidence of her strength and resilience. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he had seen it at its worst—black and blue and swollen and rendering her unrecognizable. And now…it seemed almost magical, how such an ugly thing had transformed into something so beautiful. He kissed her again and marveled at the feel of her lips and her tongue and her teeth and he wanted so much more...

Suddenly she pulled away and grabbed his arms.

"Did you hear something?"

They took a step away from one another and listened, barely breathing. Red peered around the corner of the door, then sighed.

"It's nothing. But we can't do this here. The kitchen is where we talk. That way when I come to your office we will have time for...other things." She smiled suggestively.

"Talk," he muttered, brushing his hand through his hair. He let out a frustrated sigh. "Right."

She pulled an apron from a hook on the wall and tied it around her waist. "Oh, come on. It's not that bad. You and I have been talking for years. It can't be that hard."

"It's hard enough," he muttered and her eyebrows shot up. He felt himself flush red at the unintended double entendre. Oh god, he'd done it again. _Nothing like being down on your hands and knees_. "No, I didn't mean that, I was…I wasn't talking about…I meant that it would be _hard_ as in _difficult_ — _difficult_ not to touch you, I wasn't implying that I was…or am..." He groaned and trailed off miserably as she laughed.

"Relax," she grinned. "I knew what you meant. It's just fun to see you blushing and tongue-tied." She patted him on the cheek then walked past him back into the kitchen and peered inside the bag. "So what's in here?"

"That's our cooking lesson," he said, following her to the counter.

She pulled out the package of chicken and froze. "Chicken breasts?" she asked, a look of wide-eyed awe on her face.

"I hope so. That's what the butcher sold me."

She examined the package with the hunger and adoration that women usually reserved for jewelry. Or, in Kayta's case, shoes. Her face lit up with excitement as she pulled out the rest of the groceries, sounding as if she had won the lottery as she named each item. "Bacon, spinach, eggs, breadcrumbs, butter, garlic, oatmeal, blueberries…Wait." She dropped the oatmeal on the counter and looked up at him like a deer in the headlights. "This is Chicken Kiev."

"Yes. Well, Chicken Kiev, plus oatmeal."

She stared at the groceries lined up on the counter."You brought me ingredients for Chicken Kiev?"

He nodded and she looked up at him with fiery eyes, then lunged at him, grabbing his shirt in her small hands and kissing the breath out of him. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her closer, but she broke the kiss and stepped back.

"Sorry…we can't...I just..." Her eyes scanned over the food again, then back to him. "I can't believe you did this…"

He was dumbfounded. He had known that the chicken would please her, but he hadn't expected it to go over this well. He wasn't used to trying and actually hitting the mark. It felt exhilarating. "Well, I can't buy you dinner, so I figured…"

"This is so much better than buying me dinner! Oh, god it's been so long since I had my hands on a real piece of meat!"

He folder his arms and gave her a pointed look, waiting for her to hear the innuendo in her last sentence.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm talking about the breasts…"

He raised his eyebrows at her.

"The chicken breasts…" she said and her cheeks colored.

"I know. But you're right. It _is_ fun to see you blushing and tongue-tied."

She laughed, and he felt like he had swallowed a firework, like light was just sparking all over him from the inside out. He was sure he'd never made anyone this happy before and to have brought this much joy to _Red_ blew his mind.

He reached into another bag and pulled out a brown box tied with a black bow. "And uh, I brought these too. I thought I remembered you talking about these once. Katya's mother bought them occasionally and I loved them. Katya wouldn't touch them—she was always on a diet—but her mother and I could go through a box between the two of us."

"What is it?" Red pulled the ribbon and opened the box. "Vatrushka…" she whispered reverently.

And then she burst into tears.


	16. Chapter 16

"I can't believe I'm crying over a pastry," Red gasped as Sam gaped at her helplessly. She wiped her eyes with her apron and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

" _I'm_ sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry. Look…can we…" he gestured to her office and she nodded and followed him. "Come here," he said when they rounded the corner and pulled her into his arms.

What was wrong with her? She was losing her edge and it was all his fault. Bringing her chicken and vatrushka and trying to tell her he loved her… If he spoke, if he said _anything_ to try to comfort her or god forbid, psychoanalyze her, it would push her over the edge and she would bolt and call this whole thing off.

But he didn't say anything. He just rubbed soothing circles into her back and kissed the side of her head.

"There isn't a lot of kindness in here," she finally said, her voice muffled against his chest. "And there is very little comfort. And then the vatrushka…that's like a memory from another life, and having it all right here in this kitchen—it just felt overwhelming. And I don't know…if you treat me like this, if I start _feeling_ …I can't afford to be weak."

"You're the strongest person I've ever met," he said, brushing a tear off of her cheek. "And feeling—that doesn't make you weak. That only makes you stronger. Look at your girls. You know you would do anything for them. You can't tell me you don't feel-that you don't care about your family."

"Yeah. Look where all my caring got Nicky." She paused, giving him the opening to tell her her that he was looking into getting Nicky out of max. She felt him tense, but he didn't say anything. She didn't want to push him yet. It would be better for him to investigate without feeling pressure from her and she still had her own ground to cover. It could wait.

She sighed, then put her palm against his cheek. "This is an impossible situation. You know that."

"Yes. But it's temporary." He took her hand and squeezed it. "And in the meantime there's Chicken Kiev."

"Well, there could be," she sniffled. "I don't think it's going to cook itself." She moved out of his arms. "You know you can't eat that don't you? It's full of butter and fat."

"I'll have a small plate. You and your girls can have the rest. "

"You can have one bite. If you drop dead of a heart attack, I'll kill you," she said, walking towards the kitchen.

"Are you threatening an officer?" he smiled.

She stopped, looking over her shoulder and arching an eyebrow at him. "If I was threatening you, you wouldn't need to ask."

He laughed and she headed towards the kitchen again.

As she was just about to round the corner, he grabbed her hand. "Hey…" She stopped and he reached out and stroked her hair behind her ear. "I'm scared too."

And goddamnit if that wasn't the perfect thing to say.

* * *

Sam hadn't been lying when he said he didn't know how to cook. She spent the lesson portion of their time showing him how to make oatmeal (boil the water first) and then how to bake a plain, seasoned chicken breast (turn on oven, season chicken, stick in oven). Then she focused her attention on the Chicken Kiev and he just sat and watched, letting her immerse herself in the food. She didn't know how he understood to leave her alone while she worked, but she was grateful that he had observed in relative silence. It had been a rush, working to create something familiar and beloved and she took if for the gift it was intended to be.

She put the chicken in the oven and checked the clock. It needed an hour to cook. The prison was starting to wake up and their time was almost over. She leaned her arms on the counter. "You should go in a minute. No need to draw extra attention to ourselves."

"Yeah, I know," he said, sadly. "Do you think it's safe for you to come by my office later?"

"I don't know yet. I'll feel it out. "

"Okay,"he said, looking crestfallen.

She sighed. "I'm sure I can at least stop by."

He brightened. "That would be great. If you can."

"By the way—I meant to warn you, your little buddy Doggett came to see me about that proposal. I expect she'll be visiting you soon too, guns blazing. "

"Oh. Yeah, sorry about sicking her on you. I just couldn't handle her fresh out of the gates. I'll take her off your hands."

"No, it's ok. I mean, at first, I wanted to eat my own spleen and remove my eyeballs with a spoon every time she spoke. I really don't think I've ever met a more ignorant person. But she's actually trying. And I think her convoluted, chicken-fried heart is in the right place."

Sam sighed heavily. "Well. It was anyway. I don't know about nowadays. I think she's been drinking Black's kool-aid. That one is all about the lesbian agenda. I'm sure that she's just monopolizing on Doggett's vulnerabilty, trying to turn her to the other side."

Red breathed deeply and took a moment to decide how she wanted to play this. Then she slid off the counter and took his hand, phrasing her words carefully.

"Okay. This is an area where you and I differ. In a big way. You know that Nicky is my daughter. She's a sweet and loyal and intelligent girl. She's an addict and she's lost and she's kind and funny…and she's a lesbian. And she's one of the people I love most in the world."

He started to interrupt and she put a finger to his lips, then let go of his hand. People would start coming in the kitchen any minute. "And if this is happening, then you have to accept my people. And she is my people. Nicky, Norma, my girls, my sons, my grandchildren…they are non-negotiables. And I know this is difficult—neither of us is a spring chicken, you can't teach an old dog new tricks, yada yada yada. But I think maybe it's time for you to reexamine some of your morals and ideas. I'm not saying that I really understand why women are attracted to women or men are attracted to men. It's not for me. But it's not really my business, either. I'm not asking you to embrace it or even to understand it. I'm just saying, live and let live. Love and let love. "

He shifted in his seat and started to speak again, but she put out her hand. "Let me finish. Please. I know, it sounds like hippie bullshit. But look at you and I. Who would have ever put the two of us together? This relationship is literally illegal! The heart wants what it wants, Sam. And that isn't good or bad. I mean, be honest with yourself. Am I the woman you dreamt about when you were a young man?" She answered before he could try to interrupt. "Of course I'm not. You've read my file. You know what I've done—both inside and outside of this place-you know everything—well," she smirked, "almost everything."

He smiled and shook his head.

"And yet, here you are, risking your job, risking your _freedom_ to spend time with me, a convicted felon. I'm not what you thought you wanted. I'm not some pie in the sky, blond waif in an apron…"

He glanced down and tugged on the pocket of her smock and raised his eyebrows.

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, yes, I am _literally_ in an apron at the moment. But you know what I mean. I'm strong. I'm independent. I'm smart and I don't suffer fools and I get what I want. I don't need a man to stand behind and you know damn well that we are fucking equals. There's another one: I say "fucking"—I am all of the things that you've told yourself a woman shouldn't be…and yet..."

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You're the exception.

"Yes, but see, I don't think that I am. I think that you've outgrown your old ways of thinking and you just don't know it yet. The fact that you are standing here, looking at me like that is the proof."

He sighed and shrugged helplessly. "You're asking me to change sixty years of beliefs and ideas. I can't do that in one day, not even if I wanted to, not even for you. If I told you I could I'd be lying."

"I'm just asking you to open your mind. For me. I've done it for you, you know. I've looked past some of the things about you that I don't agree with and I don't understand because I see the whole you, in spite of those flaws. And you're a good man, Sam. I know you are. And you're better than your outdated biases. Start this program with Doggett. See if it does anything to change your mind." She leaned in and let her breath ghost over his ear as she whispered. "Do it for me."

Sam nodded and looked deeply into her eyes. "Okay. I'll try."

She smiled and squeezed his arm. "That's all I ask."

"So I guess this means you will be coming to the meetings?'

Red widened her eyes in alarm. "Me? God no! No, this kind of thing…it's not for me."

"I promise to try to open my mind if you promise to come to the meetings. That way I get to see you an extra hour a week."

She smirked. "Across a crowded room of lesbian criminals.."

"I'll take what I can get."

She searched her mind desperately for another excuse. She would rather hand launder Caputo's unmentionables than sit in Doggett's _feelings_ group. "It will blow our cover. No one would believe I would go to that voluntarily. Anyone who knows me knows I wouldn't be caught dead at that sort of thing."

"Hmm. Now who sounds stuck in her ways."

She rolled her eyes. "This will really get you to open your mind?"

"It will get me to try. And I really will try. You know I'd do anything for you, Red."

She sighed. "Fine. I'lll go." She lifted her chin imperiously." But I won't talk."


	17. Chapter 17

A/N:

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed. I am kind of using this story as a writing exercise so constructive feedback is always appreciated!

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Red rounded the corner of her cell and handed Chapman a foil-covered plate.

"What's this?" Chapman asked.

She gestured for her to take it. "Don't ask questions. Eat."

Chapman's eyes grew wide as the aroma hit her. "Is this food? Real food?" She peeled the foil off the plate."Oh my god, where did this come from? Wait…is this chicken?" She gasped and stared at Red. "Oh my god, is this _the_ chicken?"

Red handed her a fork. "You've grown on me, Chapman, but if I ever get my hands on that chicken I am going to eat every morsel with my bare hands starting with the heart and then I'm going to suck the bones dry."

"Okay, that's…graphic," Chapman said, frowning. "I hope you're going to cook it first." She took her first bite and her eyes rolled back in her head.

"No, I'm going to eat it raw, feathers and all," Red said dryly, but she couldn't help the jolt of pride she got from hearing Chapman moan in ecstasy as she chewed.

"Oh my god...Red, I can't believe I ever insulted your cooking…this…this is magical. This is a revelation." She closed her eyes. "Oh. My. _God."_

"As much as I would like to take the compliment I think your taste buds might have been impaired by the ramen packets. May be time to lay off the MSG."

"No, I'm serious. This is really amazing. I'm not kidding, the first thing I'm going to do when I get out of here is move to Russia so I can eat this every single day." She swallowed, then narrowed her eyes. "Wait…why did you give me this?"

Red gave her an exaggerated look of innocence. "What do you mean?"

"I mean…" Chapman said, reluctantly putting the food down on her bunk."That you don't give anything away for free."

"Chapman. When did you get so cynical?"

"I don't know. I think it started when you served me a tampon sandwich."

Red smirked. "Touche. But don't be so paranoid. There are no _strings_ attached here. Get it… _strings_..."

"Oh, gross...god, yeah I get it…" She grimaced, then glanced down at her plate. "Normally conjuring up that image would be enough to turn me off food for at least the next twenty-four hours. And there's no way I believe that you don't want something. But fuck it. This is too delicious. I don't even care," she said, picking up her fork again and humming as she took another bite.

Red clucked her tongue. "Aww. So suspicious…Come on. We've had our ups and downs. But we have a lot in common. We both appreciate good food. We're both small business women. We both want Nicky out of max…"

Chapman froze, fork in mid-air. "Ah. There it is..."

"It's just a small favor. You have some connections to the press."

"Not really."

"And yet I seem to remember hearing your fiancé on the radio not that long ago."

She sighed. "Larry and I broke up. You know that. And why do you need the press? What do you have?"

"Not much, yet," Red admitted. "But I'm working on it. And when I have something I'm going to need somewhere to go. I think I was too hasty in dismissing Luschek…"

"Yes!" Chapman saiid, waving her fork for emphasis. "He's such an asshole for naming her…"

Red raised a hand to silence her. "Oh I still blame Nicky. And if this works and we get her back here I will personally take it upon myself to make max look like a tea party. This is on her. But I think Luschek is the key to getting her released."

"How?"

"Something had to happen to Vee's stash, it didn't just disappear into thin air. And then all of a sudden, Nicky's hiding heroin and Luschek falls into big mystery money? I smell a rat."

"I agree…but even if Luschek has-or had-Vee's drugs... I don't see how any of that is going to get Nicky out of max."

Red wasn't really sure either, but when life backed you into a corner sometimes the biggest and best thing you had going was momentum. It was time to give this thing a push and see what happened. She sighed. "To tell you the truth...I'm grasping at straws. I don't really know that there's anything to be done. But. I have to try, you know?"

Chapman nodded slowly. "Yeah, I know what you mean. And I'll do what I can to help. I miss her too," she said, with a sad smile. She picked up her fork for another bite. "By the way, how did you get this food?"

"Didn't you hear? Caputo is forcing me to give Healy cooking lessons. Apprarently his mail order bride shipped herself out of his life and he wants to spread his misery as far and wide as possible."

"That does seem to be a special talent of his."

Red had to bite her tongue. Yes, she had set her up for that comment, but Sam had given the girl fucking furlough, for gods sake. Ungrateful little WASP. "Anyway, If you help me on this I'll deliver you a delicious home cooked meal whenever I have a little extra left over."

"Look, Red I want to get Nicky back here too. I mean, as much as I would love to continue to eat your amazing cooking….you actually don't have to bribe me to help."

Red smiled. Chapman wasn't all bad. She was a privileged, shrewd little thing, but she did have a heart. "Then consider it a thank you in advance."


End file.
